


The Forgotten

by zulu



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 06-04, F/F, Femslash, for:ideal_girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-07
Updated: 2006-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulu/pseuds/zulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No defeat is made up entirely of defeat--since the world it opens is always a place formerly unsuspected. "Descent", William Carlos Williams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through "The Siege 3". April 7, 2006.

Childhood ended for every Genii the moment they woke up alone on the floor of a barred cell, with the vast expanse of an underground chamber stretching away in front of them and solid rock at their backs. When Commander Kolya let them loose, everything about their future had already been determined. It was always the Commander who came, no matter whether the kid was panicked and weeping, or yelling threats and defying the Wraith to come for him. The Commander opened the cell and told them the truth. Sora had seen him do it a hundred times, after her initiation. His face showed nothing when he appeared at the cell's door, and nothing while he explained that he, personally, would track down and kill any Genii who broke faith with the secret. And he sent them to their new lives: back to the surface and the fields, down to the lowest levels to study science and weaponry, or to the barracks where Genia's soldiers learned how to survive and how to kill. Sora supposed there were even those who were happy with the choice made for them.

She was standing in the center of her cell when the Commander came for her, fiercely angry and clenching her fist around the razor-edged knife she kept in her skirts. She'd long ago decided that no Wraith would feed from her. She was ready to plunge it into her neck, just below her jaw and slightly to one side, where her blood would spill out too quickly for regrets. When she saw Commander Kolya's face, she didn't bluster or demand to know who he was; she decided that she would kill him instead, even if he took her with him, for daring to kidnap her.

After he explained, after she understood the great task her people had undertaken, Sora gave Commander Kolya her death. The knife clattered to the cement floor, and Sora never looked back. Killing the Wraith, driving them out of the galaxy, was all that mattered. After all, she was Genii.

The brig on Atlantis was no different. Sora pushed every part of her that wanted to scream and curse and beg into the tiniest ball, and buried it so deeply that it would never show to the blank-faced men who stood guard outside. The Commander had taught her how to be a model prisoner, how to spot weaknesses in her enemy, how to plan her escape and how to kill as many as she could if escape was impossible. He had taught her to resist interrogation, to stay silent, to save her fury for the moment it was needed.

But the Atlanteans asked no questions. They pushed trays of strange food into her cell regularly, and counted the implements when they took the remains away, just as regularly. They turned away politely when she washed, and dimmed the lights when night fell, and demanded nothing of her. Colonel Sheppard did not come to gloat about the men he'd killed, nor did Dr. McKay demand reparations for the injuries he'd sustained, nor did Dr. Weir order any deprivations or torture for the Genii's near take-over of the city. Sora wondered if she would be left to rot here, perhaps forever, perhaps forgotten. She wondered if once again it would be the Commander who would come to let her free. She didn't think a single bullet to the shoulder would stop him. She thought her failure to follow orders might.

Four days passed, and Sora had stopped looking up each time new footsteps echoed through the brig, when Teyla came.

"Unlock the door," she said, studying Sora through the bars. She was carrying no weapons. She wore her own clothes, leather and furs, not the borrowed uniform of the Atlanteans. She stood as calmly as Commander Kolya had, years ago, evaluating Sora with her eyes, judging whether she was fit.

Sora controlled her rage at being at Teyla's mercy. For so much of her life, she had trusted her, and now her father was dead because of her. She hadn't yet paid for that, but there were two Atlanteans with their hands on their guns only steps away, and Teyla was letting her free. If she could get to the ring, then she would be able to make her way home. She could wait for revenge, for as long as necessary.

"I am sorry this has taken so long," Teyla said, still watching her closely. "I have convinced Dr. Weir that there is a better place for you."

"You wouldn't send me back to Genia," Sora said. Even the Atlanteans couldn't be so condescending as to _give_ her back to her people.

"The Genii refuse to speak with us," Teyla said. "They open fire if we send anything through the Stargate."

"Are you surprised?" Sora asked, barbing her words with sarcasm. "You killed over seventy of our men."

"Dr. Weir wanted to send you home, as a gesture of goodwill," Teyla said, "but your life would be endangered if we sent you through." She did not add that the Genii soldiers had been killed while invading the city, but it was written in her face and the way she stood. Sora expected to see bitterness over their fight, or over what Commander Kolya had tried to do, but Teyla's face was as calm as summer.

She hadn't always been this difficult to read. Before Teyla had learned the secret on Genia, Sora had never been in doubt about her feelings. When Tagan led the Athosians on their trading missions, Teyla had been joyful much of the time. Sora looked away, to the guards. "Then where are you taking me?"

"Come," Teyla said, and for a moment she looked again as she had on those bright days, aboveground on Genia. "I will show you."

* * *

The Atlanteans' invisible ship seemed even more magical as it raced above the ocean's surface. Sora could see its speed through the front window, but she felt nothing. The dark line on the horizon grew into land so fast that she had to remind herself to breathe. Teyla glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Our new village is further inland, where the trees offer protection from the worst of the weather," she said. "There is still much damage from the storm, but we are rebuilding quickly."

When the pilot banked the ship around and landed, Teyla opened the ship's rear door and stepped out into the light. She paused at the top of the ramp and lifted her face to the sun, then walked down the ramp without looking back. The pilot, Stackhouse, busied himself with the ship's controls, paying her no attention, but his partner, Markham, watched her with the same blank-eyed formality she'd learned to expect on the faces of her Atlantean guards. They clearly wouldn't be taking off while she was still aboard. Sora stood and made her way to the ship's open door. A breeze ruffled her hair, smelling overwhelmingly of old, wet leaves, but also of Athosian spices and ocean salt.

She stepped down to the sodden ground, grateful for her boots. The settlement was nothing more than a huddled knot of tents, all of them painted with the same dull grays and earth browns of the mud they sat in. It was more squalid than any Genii village, where they built solidly with stone and wood, but the people rushing about took no notice of the shabbiness.

A crowd had gathered around Teyla, pressing forward to greet her in the Athosian manner. The rest kept on working, clearing away fallen trees and stacking the lumber, or building walkways with what were clearly Atlantean materials and tools. They could be living in the city of the Ancients, and instead they chose to squat in the mud, cheerfully using the Atlanteans' castoffs as if they were treasures.

"Sora!" Halling strode towards her, reaching out to grasp her arms at the elbow in the Genii fashion, then bending his tall frame to touch his forehead to hers. "You've come to join us, I hear."

Sora smiled at him, but it felt brittle on her face. She had broken Doran's fingers to get the codes they'd needed to gate to Atlantis. She'd been ready to kill Teyla for her action son the Wraith cruiser. "It has been many days," she said, the greeting words sounding broken as she spoke them.

"Too many," Halling said. "Though there may not be many here who are glad to see you, Sora, after what has happened."

Sora shrugged. Teyla was picking her way towards them, still half-listening to the children tagging along beside her. She looked like part of the world itself, wrapped in her long white-furred jacket. "Excuse me, Halling," she said. "I need to speak with Sora for a moment."

"Of course." Halling nodded to her and smiled. "You will be staying for the evening meal, I hope?"

"I think I can persuade Sergeant Stackhouse to stay a few hours more. But first..." Teyla touched Sora's elbow, and Halling smiled his acknowledgement and left them.

Sora pulled her arm out of Teyla's hand. "You're going to leave me with them?"

"My people will not harm you, Sora." Teyla turned her towards the forest in the direction they had come from in the ship and started walking.

"I am not _afraid_ of them!" Sora followed after her. What other choice was there?

"I did not say you were." Teyla's lips moved in what was almost a smile. Sora fell into step behind her, as she had so many times when she was still a child, and knew nothing of what it truly meant to be Genii. When the Commander had chosen her, she had forgotten her childhood easily. It was not so simple while she hiked behind Teyla, like the times she had taken Sora hunting, or allowed her to follow while she meditated.

They passed by clearings of varying sizes, as grey and empty as the patch of earth where the village stood. Sora could see long grooves in the soil, like a half-hearted attempt at tilling. Teyla saw her looking.

"We are learning to become farmers." Teyla pushed back the branches hanging in their path as they circled the field, and let Sora go first. "You could help us, if you wish."

"What makes you think I would help you?" Sora shot back, but there was no heat in her words. Perhaps Dr. Weir was more clever than even Commander Kolya gave her credit for. Being here, with Teyla, remembering her easy friendship, was far better torture than physical pain.

Teyla strode ahead of her, at ease in the forest in a way Sora was certain she would never be. "We have been hunters since the last culling," she said. "You were once eager to visit my people, and teach them your ways, Sora."

Sora snorted. She had been naïve once, that was all. That was _all_. "I am still your prisoner."

Teyla only shook her head. "There," she said, as they emerged from the trees, and pointed ahead of them. They stood on a bluff overlooking a stretch of sand and rock where the ocean swells rippled against the shore. The tide was rushing in, one long wave after another. Teyla turned to her and faced her squarely. "Dr. Weir cannot let you go. That has not changed. I would prefer to have your parole, Sora, and your help, but if you do not choose to give it...Atlantis is five hundred miles away, in the Atlantean measurement. It would be a long swim."

* * *

Teyla showed her to a small tent near the center of the settlement, made of wapiti leather sewn together with rawhide, and framed by flexible evergreen trees, smelling sharply of sap. There was a table woven from willow, and a low bed padded with spruce boughs. The wall posts were hung with the artifacts of many worlds. "All that is here was once mine," Teyla said. "While I live in the city, it is yours."

Sora wanted to scream at her, but her throat was too thick with tears to let sound pass. She raked her arm across the table, brushing dishes to the ground. They landed, muffled by the fur rug that covered the bare earth. "_Why?_" she demanded. "Why are you giving this to me?" _I am your enemy_, she thought, and, _Why can't you hate me?_

Teyla caught her forearm as she moved to knock the hangings to the ground. Her grip was tight and uncompromising. "Sora, do you think that I do not grieve for Tyrus as well? That I have forgotten the years we knew each other as friends?"

"You left him to die!" Sora struggled to free herself, but her breath was short with tears, and Teyla easily caught her other arm. With a twist, she locked Sora's elbows in front of her, holding her from behind, her mouth next to Sora's ear.

"There was no choice," she said. Her words were hard, but her voice was somehow still gentle. "The Wraith had awoken. Sora, there was no one at fault." Teyla's grip tightened, a strange embrace, restraining her and holding her close at the same time.

"Colonel Sheppard woke them," she said, filling his name with all her bitterness. The Genii could have won against the Wraith, if they had been given time. The Atlanteans had stolen fifty years from them. They should have prevailed. Sora relaxed her shoulders, then wrenched forward, but Teyla easily kept her hold. Teyla's breath was warm against the back of her neck, and Sora let her head drop forwards. She hated the comfort, most of all from Teyla, and she held back her tears, her disappointment. They should have won! They were Genii!

"Let yourself grieve, Sora," Teyla said, and now she did loosen her arms, until Sora could escape from her. She didn't go far, taking a step forward to the table, and kept her back to Teyla, hiding her face. "There were no prayers for Tyrus, no leave-taking. But you have time now, if you want to remember him."

Sora gripped the table's edge until her knuckles ached. "You're going back to Atlantis to fight the Wraith."

"Yes."

"Take me with you." And, when Teyla did not answer, Sora turned around. The light in the tent was dim, but she could see the sorrow on Teyla's face. "I'm not a girl any longer, Teyla," she said. "This isn't a trading mission. This is a war I was trained to fight."

"Going back is not possible," Teyla said. "I lost my father to the Wraith as well, Sora. And I learned there is no way to return to the past."

Teyla laid her hands on Sora's shoulders, and leaned in. Sora felt the warmth of her palms through her tunic, the spicy scent of tea on her breath. She bent her head and accepted the Athosian salute, and finally, her tears fell.

* * *

Teyla left that night for the city of the Ancients. Sora remained with the Athosians. The one lesson Commander Kolya never taught was how to remain enemies with people who cared nothing about the fact that she was their prisoner. They treated her as they had when she was a child, clinging to her father's trousers while he bartered beer and tava for fresh meat. It felt at once patronizing and welcome, because this village was one place where she could not be proud of her actions on Atlantis. And she was not the only one from a different world. There were Manarians and Langanese, even a few children adopted from planets where their parents had been culled.

The rhythms of farming were easy to settle into. Sora found herself teaching the Athosians many things, not because she had intended to, but because she instinctively worked the fields in the ways she knew were best. Halling and the others followed her. With Teyla gone, Halling led the village, but he was not the only leader. Charan was the closest they had to doctor and judge, and Palam was the best hunter. When Teyla returned, they would defer to her and listen to what she had to say, but no one had the authority that Minister Cowen or the Commander had on Genia. Sora felt the tug of freedom like temptation, and worked to keep her discipline, her distance.

It was most difficult in the evenings, when the village was filled with the sound of clattering sticks, measured breathing, and the stomp and retreat of leather-booted feet. The younger ones followed the movements of Halling, who guided the lessons, while Palam and Elina walked among them, silently correcting stances and lunges.

The Genii trained in silence, as well. Soldiers learned hand-to-hand combat from Commander Kolya because the cost was too high if they didn't. The only correction was the biting pain of his staff finding holes and weaknesses in their defense, or the grip of his hand throwing them forward into the fight. Sora had paid for her mistakes in bruises and blood, and she had focused her anger until she could best any Genii except the Commander himself.

The Athosians' silence was different. The practice square was another place for their daily meditations. Each of them chose the time and place for their prayers, but during that time, no one else would dare to interrupt their concentration, and the sticks were a part of that. Anyone who wished could take up a pair of sticks and learn. The wordlessness on the training ground was due to the high honour they reserved for those who excelled. To them, fighting and survival had been their art and their way of life for as long as the Genii had been building weapons underground. Their movements reminded Sora of the way Teyla danced at harvest festivals, when she visited Genia in autumn.

When the lesson finished, Palam and Halling squared off against each other. They were the most skilled in the village, and they sparred with all the intensity of a real bout. It took several minutes before Halling disarmed Palam, sending his sticks flying. The two men grinned at each other, and touched foreheads. "Until next time," Halling said.

"Take your chances, Sora?" Palam asked, leaving the training ground and offering her his sticks. "You've been watching long enough."

Sora stepped forward. This was the first time any of the Athosians had taken notice of her watching the evening practices. She took the sticks that Palam offered. The striking ends were wrapped in strips of leather, padding but not softening the blows that they could deliver. Like many in the practice square, Palam wasn't using his best, but rather an old pair of sticks that were weighted at the handles to increase the strength of his wrists and hands.

Sora felt herself smiling, perhaps for the first time since she had arrived here. She took a moment to get accustomed to Palam's sticks. She was used to the single staves of the Genii. Halling took up his defensive stance, waiting to judge her skill before he attacked. Her training served her well, though, and she advanced quickly, giving him no time to take her measure. If she had been on Genia, then winning would mean beating Halling until he could no longer reach for his sticks; that was Commander Kolya's standard. Sora whirled around, sliding under Halling's guard, where his reach was no longer an advantage. A beating was not the goal of Athosian stick-training, as it was with the Commander. Sora had seen it acted out many times. The victor was the one who could disarm his opponent without injuring him.

_Weakness_, the Commander would say, and call for her to exploit it. Halling stopped her advance quickly, and pushed her back, keeping her at a distance. Despite his size, they were evenly matched. Sora twisted to the inside again, and this time Halling's stick rapped her sharply on the arm. She flowed past him and clipped his knee, striking in her turn.

She should use any tactic she had to destroy Halling. It was how she fought, always, it was what her training demanded of her. Yet the Athosians had shown her nothing but trust since she had arrived. She wasn't angry with Halling. When he stepped into her guard once more, Sora flipped her sticks across his and knocked them downwards, into the mud at her feet. And she held herself still.

Halling smiled softly. Sora stood, catching her breath, keeping Palam's sticks at her side.

When she looked up, Teyla stood on the outskirts of the square, watching her, her eyes bright with happiness. Sora smiled again, her heart thudding hard in her chest. She bent and handed Halling his sticks back, and accepted the touch of his forehead. "Until next time."

"I look forward to it," he said.

"That was well done," Teyla said, coming forward and holding her hands. Sora felt herself blushing, and hoped it didn't show through the heat on her face from the exercise. She was certain Teyla meant to praise her for stopping, more than to congratulate her for her victory.

"Teyla!" Halling said. "It is wonderful to see you again, safely home."

"You as well, Halling," she said. "I have brought Orin and his family, and others from his world. The Wraith have culled most of the settlements there."

"That is not far from here," Halling said.

Teyla nodded. "The Wraith are advancing towards Atlantis. Dr. Weir has asked me if we wish to evacuate to their Alpha site."

"Evacuate?" Sora asked. "You'd run away from the Wraith?"

"We must discuss it," Halling said. "I would rather fight beside our allies than have them always protecting us."

"Of course," Teyla said. "I must see Charan. Could you find a few to help Orin? I think Elina claims him as kin."

Halling nodded, and called to Doran and Elina as he walked over to where a huddle group waited. Teyla smiled at Sora. "I want to speak with you as well," she said. "If you'll allow me the time."

Sora could only nod, and then Teyla was striding away, waving greetings to those she passed.

Sora returned to the tent that had been Teyla's, and sat on the spruce-bough bed. So much time had passed, slipping past her, and she hadn't been able to hold any moment close. If she counted, it had been weeks since Teyla had left her here. Sora wished she had her anger back. For the first few days she had burned to go home, and had watched the skies every day for the impossible hope that she would see one of the Atlantean ships circling the village to land. Now, she didn't know. Of course she still wanted to go home. What was Commander Kolya thinking, as he recovered from Colonel Sheppard's gunshot? That she was still locked up in the Atlantean brig? That she had broken his trust and told them everything she knew? Joined them, even?

Instead, she had been wasting her time among the Athosians, _farming_, like any Genii who was not able enough to become a soldier. Learning their ways and accepting them, and forgetting her own people.

The tent flap fluttered, and Teyla entered. "You look well, Sora," she said.

Sora glanced down at the leathers she wore, and felt her face warm again. The Athosian clothes were far less modest than anything a Genii would wear, but in the time Teyla had been away, she'd grown used to them. "Thank you," she said. It was strange, that now she was the one wearing leathers, while Teyla wore the slick grey fabric and black vest of Atlantean soldiers.

"Charan tells me that you are doing well here." Teyla lifted the tent flap. The sun had fallen low enough to reach through the trees, and its orange light blazed on her face and hair as she looked out. There was a tension in her stance that Sora had rarely seen. It could not be the Wraith alone. Raids had threatened Athos and Genia over the years. The threat alone meant nothing. Teyla would fight when the Wraith arrived. Before then, thinking about that moment would only paralyze her.

What, then?

"I never meant to leave you here for so long," Teyla said. "I wish there was a way to return you to Genia, before the Wraith arrive."

"Let me come back," Sora said. "Let me fight."

"I sense them...even in my sleep, there is no escape," Teyla said, as if she hadn't heard. "My father always taught me not to fear them, only to prepare myself. And now..."

"What?" Sora asked.

Teyla let the flap fall and knotted the ties. "I wish to forget," she said.

All her time on the mainland, and Sora had reached for memories of the bunker's vastness, the way it was always hot and close, the barracks underground. She went over everything the Commander had ever taught her, about the Genii's secrets, and plans, and how they had held on to their technology generations after other planets were burned and broken. She wanted to remember.

But the tent's walls glowed with the last of the sun. The day's warmth was fading, but it was spring, and Sora hadn't lit a brazier. The air was cool, scented with packets of herbs that Sora had found growing wild in the fields. It was beautiful here, in its own fashion. Sora felt her hold on Genia, on the farms and thatched houses, the barns, the harvest festivals...all of them...fading, while she stayed here, waiting. Instead, she remembered Teyla; all the times she had followed her, because she wanted adventure, excitement.

Sora crossed the few steps to the door and covered Teyla's hand on the door flap with hers. When Teyla turned, surprised, Sora smiled, and--it was so easy--kissed her.

Teyla rested a hand on her arm, and returned the kiss, and her mouth tasted of warm tea. Sora let a sound escape, softly, and Teyla pulled away to meet her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"You brought me here to forget," Sora said. "You think it won't work for you?"

"I did not intend for this to happen," Teyla answered softly.

"Too late," Sora said, bright with flirtation, her smile growing, and leaned forward to kiss Teyla again.

She raised her hands to Teyla's shoulders, her hands sliding too easily over the Atlantean fabric. She found the zipper, and pulled it down slowly. Beneath the jacket, Teyla's shirt was made of bunched Langanese silk that left her stomach bare. That was better, and Sora pushed the jacket off her shoulders. When she looked up, Teyla was watching her, her eyes dark and amused.

Sora's breath caught in her throat, but then Teyla's hands were moving expertly on the leather ties that held her skirt closed. She pulled until they were touching skin to skin. Teyla's mouth was as warm as midday in the fields, and Sora gasped to feel it roaming over the underside of her jaw, and lower to her breasts. "Oh," she whispered, and the word was lost in the rustle of Teyla kicking the last of her clothes away.

The bed was close, even though the boughs prickled through the coverings. Teyla lay down beside her, sliding her thigh between hers. Sora pushed towards her, panting against Teyla's lips. She raised her hands until they covered Teyla's breasts, and Teyla murmured, "That...that is good, Sora."

Sora moaned, trying to bring Teyla nearer, hard against her. Teyla pulled her even closer when she shuddered, and pleasure rolled through her, low and hot and aching. Sora leaned forward until she could reach Teyla's skin with her mouth, any part, so long as she could taste the drumbeat of Teyla's pulse and feel her breath shivering through her. Teyla's muscles knotted as her body twists upwards. Sora tasted her gasping breath until she was calm once more, and they rested.

"I must return to Atlantis soon," Teyla said, into the side of Sora's throat.

"Shh," Sora said, and, "sleep."

As Teyla slept, Sora dropped small kisses on her shoulder and back. Her Atlantean uniform lay crumpled on the floor, the antenna of her radio poking out from the pocket of her vest.

The Commander's lessons were not meant to be forgotten. When Sora twined her legs with Teyla's, she fell asleep listening to the tide of her breath, with a smile curving her lips.

* * *

Sora was the first to see the incandescence on the horizon. The fiery glow rose from one spot and lifted from there into the clouds. The city was half a world away, and the village was lit as brightly as if a bonfire was burning in the center square. Their only link to the rest of the galaxy was being razed to the wavetops. It ended any plans of escape or rescue. Sora watched, while the Athosians gathered around her.

"The Wraith," Halling said, appearing at her side, his face turned towards the light. "They are destroying the City of the Ancestors."

_Teyla is there_, Sora thought, and she was surprised to find her face wet with tears.


End file.
